


die a true death

by We_deserve_rainbows



Series: Mechs Album Week 2021 [2]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band), Ulysses Dies at Dawn - The Mechanisms (Album)
Genre: :(, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Mercy Killing, Other, Spousal Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 13:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29999946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/We_deserve_rainbows/pseuds/We_deserve_rainbows
Summary: Penelope would get to die a true death, she deserved that, at least.
Relationships: Penelope/Ulysses (Ulysses Dies at Dawn)
Series: Mechs Album Week 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2206137
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2
Collections: Mechs Album Week





	die a true death

**Author's Note:**

> :( :( :(

Ulysses was _tired._

They had _been_ tired for decades. Years upon years of fighting had worn them down, of seeing thousands, _hundreds_ of thousands, of soldiers die. 

The people Ulysses worked for threw _so many people_ at that damned wall, and then they would watch their armies fall to the guns high up on that defense line, and revise estimates for when Illium would _finally_ fall. 

The initial estimates had said that the war would be over before the new year, that it would be done in just a few months. 

The initial estimates had been made 18 years ago. 

Yet, Illium’s wall still stood. And here Ulysses still sat, at a table with war mongers and all the well-to-dos who had something to gain from the senseless violence and death. 

They did not want to fight anymore, they _couldn’t_ fight anymore. So they did the only thing they could think of to stop the fighting.

-

The war was finished now. And despite the things that they had done, and the blood that was now on their hands, that night, Ulysses slept better than they had in the past few decades. 

The nights after that though? Well, let’s just say that more often than not Ulysses found themself creeping out of bed and going to sit on the concrete step outside their door.

Tonight, Ulysses sat with a cigarette hanging loosely from their fingers, their head rested on the coarse outer wall of their home. 

They gazed upwards, towards the pinpricks of light that broke through the black in places. Not stars, even with Ulysses’ relatively high position in the City there were no stars above their home, just light from higher levels permeating down, but it was nice to imagine that they were stars.

Ulysses closed their eyes. Whether it was a facade of peace, or a desperate ploy at rest, who could say? Certainly not Ulysses, who was allowing something that, in the right light, could have been a smile, to dance tiredly across their face as they once again remembered the thing that had pulled them through decades of war.

Long ago, before decades of war and pain, Ulysses had found something beautiful. A last refuge of nature among the concrete and metal and glass of the City. They had hidden it away, afraid that if they didn't it would be destroyed. They were hopeful that it could be a symbol of some sort.

They were not hopeful anymore. 

During their time in the war they had learned so much about the Acheron. More than they had ever known as a civilian, and they had learned _exactly_ how fucked up it really was.

There was no escape from that endless processor, it kept even the most complete minds in a state of half consciousness that was _torture_ , no matter how much the flyers plastered on school walls and in the lower levels of the City denied that fact. 

They had made up their mind. Penelope wouldn’t have to suffer like those poor souls in the Acheron did, she would get to die a _true_ death. And she would get to die forever. 

Even if it was before her time. Even if Ulysses was the one to kill her. 

They knew that it would be better that way, that she would be at rest. 

Yes, yes they were completely sure, this was the right thing to do, this was the correct thing to do _morally_ (it was laughable really, that ‘morals’ meant anything to them, after the things that they had done).

So it was decided. They closed their eyes to the false stars, lest tears threaten to fall, and took another drag of their cigarette. 

On the dawn of Penelope’s last day Ulysses woke up first. They turned onto their side to look at her, the ghost of a smile on her lips, and they sighed, she was so good, so kind.

Their breath caught in what could have been a sob. It pricked their throat painfully, _today was their last day with her._

Ulysses had to do this.

They did not want to.

They were going to.

Not yet though, not quite.

Ulysses made that day so good for her, breakfast and dancing and taking her to the place where they had first met, and visiting Penelope’s favorite museum. There was wine and dinner and kissing on the balcony.

And then the day was over, and Penelope was sitting next to them in bed, reading glasses resting on her nose as she read a book. She would never get to finish that book, would she.

Nonetheless, she closed the book and turned her head to smile at Ulysses, “Today was really nice”, a yawn and a few seconds of Penelope getting her words in order, she never lost that habit she picked up over years of teaching, “I’m going to go to bed now, see you in the morning, I love you,” She leaned over to peck Ulysses on the cheek before setting her glasses on the nightstand and turning the bedside lamp off. 

“I love you too.” Ulysses tried to say it like they always did. All day they had been pushing down fear and trepidation, and to them it seemed like Penelope hadn’t noticed anything amiss, they really didn't want to screw it up at the last second.

Thankfully, Penelope didn’t question the tone of Ulysses’ voice, just smiled as she closed her eyes. 

Penelope had always fallen asleep quickly, and she had always been a heavy sleeper, so it was just ten or so minutes before Ulysses was getting out of bed and getting a blade. 

Grey staticky spots of anxiety floated through their vision and thick dread coated their throat as they stood over where Penelope slept. 

They held a blade. It was sharp, _very_ sharp. It wouldn’t be painful for her, she would never wake up to see ~~the betrayal~~ what Ulysses had done to her. 

They tilted her head up with shaking hands, and steeled themself, before bringing the blade to her throat, and before hesitation could get the better of them, cutting one clean, deep cut across her neck. 

Blood sputtered from the cut, and as Ulysses had hoped, she never woke up, the half-there smile never left her face.

And just like that it was over, her breathing stilled and blood continued to seep from her throat. 

With a shuddering breath they set the knife down, and allowed themself a moment, just a moment, of horror at what they had done. 

They would feel the grief later, for now though, Ulysses needed to bury Penelope. 

She would get to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> killing killing killing!!!


End file.
